


How the Werewolf got two young men laid

by BooksAndTheSmellOfRegret (TheDreamsOfGarbage), TheDreamsOfGarbage



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Dick rip-offage, Multi, im so lazy with tags uhhhh, town fo salem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10831530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDreamsOfGarbage/pseuds/BooksAndTheSmellOfRegret, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDreamsOfGarbage/pseuds/TheDreamsOfGarbage
Summary: If you were a doctor and one of your patients was rlly hot youd prolly do this too





	1. Werewolf fuckin eats Dexter's dick off

(This Dexter belongs to ask-serial-killer on tumblr (GDI I'm sorry I can't link to them I'm a fool))

It was supposed to be a normal night. Normal as you could get in Salem, at least.

No one important had died thus far, not a witch or a sheriff, nor even a medium. It was downright suspicious.  
Well, now that it was a full moon, that was bound to change.

A cold, grey moon, looming overhead like a great silver coin. Stars glittered like distant candles. People run across the town towards different homes, wielding different objects.

Someone ran to one home, gas tank in hand and dark curls tied behind their head. They ran for the shadows in the alley between the houses and peered out, part admiring and scared of someone passing behind the homes.

Dexter.

A young man, 26, average height and weight and look and demeanor and life.

That was, as far as anyone in the town was concerned. This night, he was more than that.

A murderer. Or, according to the omniscient force watching the town's high-jinks, a Serial Killer.

He walked, oddly calm for someone about to end someone's life, seemingly for no reason, silver knife in hand.

In through the back window, to the darkest room. He fell on an adult sized cowboy outfit, stomping the hat flat. He snatched it and put it on his own head. It would only act as more proof if he left it, and even the more or less feeble minded investigating townies might find out that this person's murderer was him if they took the time to notice there was a distinct similarity in size and pattern of the hat's footprint and Dexter's shoe.

So, Dexter exited the study and entered a messy hall. Carefully, he creaked open the doors, seeing one room shrouded in shadows, a bathroom, and, finally, the room where rested the Serial Killer's first victim for this cycle of the Town.

Gliding in, knife throwing a quick dash of light to the future corpse, he made quick work of the poor soul, with a quick slide of the knife along their throat. He turned back to the door of the bedroom, about to exit. Standing in the hall was a short, bedraggled member of the Town that was believed to be the Jester.

Dexter froze. Who were they if they weren't the Jester? If you didn't have a role that could come out at night, you couldn't come out. He froze in their sight, unsure if he should run or shank them too.

The Jester lowered their head slowly. Their nose was oddly long for a human. Their deep, dark eyes stayed glued on to him as they snarled and grew.

Dexter called out and scrambled for the front door. The Jester, halfway between Pierrot and Werewolf, threw themselves on to fours and sprinted for Dexter.

Dexter slammed their palms against the front door, expecting it to open (most members of the Town didn't have locks), however the door didn't budge. He fumbled at the deadlock, too scared to properly twist it open.

He turned to get one final look at the beast that was attacking him, who was now more wolf than clown, as they threw their gigantic hands down his comparatively small form, leaving deep, stinging scratches on him from his chest to his upper legs. He gasped loudly, which turned to a shudder as he fainted, knowing this was his last night in the cursed Town. The werewolf thundered to the Sheriff's room to eat them (only one person had to be eaten every active night and the tiny sliver of sanity the Jester-wolf had was devoted to only eating their decided victim).

After the feast on the corpse was complete, the poor soul laid down and rested, becoming a simple Jester once again to beg for death during the day. They rose with guilt, just as they had for the last full moon, and saw the half-dead Serial Killer in the doorway.

Although they were scrawny, they did their best to get the innocent man back to their own front steps. How were they supposed to know that a vicious beast was going to be at the same house as them when they were just going to do their job, whatever it was?

Grey morning light peeked over the trees. Sometimes, someone could be seen slinking behind the homes or running across the town. Some of them had blood on themselves. Others, papers.

The Jester was crying when they left Dexter. Why, oh, why did their job have to be the human nuke of the town? They left the stomped hat on the worst area of their wounds and tyrned to go home. Maybe a vigilante was waiting there to shoot them. They could only hope.

Dexter was beginning to flat-line when a man in a white lab coat ran over, ready to help him back from his demise.

Gene.


	2. In which Gene heals Dexter's sad ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene gets a message from the gods that some Prime Dick (TM) is laying out in the town square for him

Gene wasn't planning to do what he was doing. Not tonight. This cycle of the town was supposed to be an easy one, where he died early and sat around, watching some useless role get resurrected and the town fall apart until the only ones left are a mindless escort and a mafioso, or some other role that would overpower and win.

He sighed, laying back to enjoy a few hours of rest before he needed to run outside and save someone's life. Gene checked that his alarm was set for five hours hours from then, at three in the morning (when most deadly crimes were done and there was just enough time to run outside and slap some stitches and some medical alcohol on someone's wounds).

He dreamed.

The sky was all swirls of dark blue and purple, curling in to one another like blood and milk mixing. There was no sun or moon above. The entire sky glowed with light. 

The town was more or less normal. The only difference he noticed was that there was no one there, but who would care if those fools disappeared. He started drifting forward, his body flowing through the infamous lynching stage.

A cold wind quickly picked up, chilling him but not blowing him away. Forward more, and he was now at the foot of the, uh, that one man in the blue. The kind one. 

It soon changed, however, from a scene of relative calm, to the obvious scene of a murder.

Gore dappled each step, and the eviscerated body of the Dude laid at the bottom, looking dead and alive both at once, in different parts. 

Gene watched in horrified fascination as the body began to ooze single drops of blood from everywhere.

Like small, scarlet stars, they slowly floated around Gene. He looked at them as they flew around, scared for the man's life and fascinated by the dream's vision.

And then, one of them glided close and touched his face. It felt like he dipped his face in hot water.

And then he woke.

"Him! What's-his-name! I need to go heal him!"


	3. Gene and Dexter meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone remembers the part in the fic where their otp meets

Gene threw open his medical cabinet, threw in a hand, and grabbed some basic medical supplies. He checked a second time to be sure he had a scalpel, needle, thread, and some cleaning alcohol.

Out his front door, flying down his front steps...

And he forgot to check his Town List for the injured man's name.

He dropped his medical bag on his bottom step to go rush to his desk and scanned his List for the name of the man living at house 4.

"Dexter," he whispered, hoping he remembered it for when Dexter woke up.

Out again, this time for sure, with all supplies and information required equipped, he swiftly ran across the town to Dexter's home. Like a majestic deer protecting his home, he almost left over the four steps leading up the lynching stage (for a shortcut)-and fell face-first on the decaying wood with a thud and a faint clanking from his bag.

He mumbled a swear and pushed himself up. He had an important job, possibly the most important of the entire town. He didn't allow himself to stop for something like tripping or getting a splinter.

Running, again, this time not aiming for a full bound down the stairs. he stomped each step and finished his run to Dexter's house.

He stood a few feet away from house 4's front steps for a moment to take a deep breath, and finally, he went up to the front steps.

The smell of blood was the first thing that he noticed, just like he usually did if there was anything worth healing. Even after so long of dealing with blood in so many ways, he was slightly shocked. It had been a long time since he had sensed this much.

Dexter looked surprisingly small, crumpled on the steps. Gene would've asked him what was wrong even if there wasn't blood everywhere.

Literally everywhere. All over Dexter's front, and especially dark on a line where gene presumed the injury was. Then, there was a clear, red line where his attacker had dragged him from one of the other houses. Gene figured sometimes after a particularly difficult night of healing that at least the town's killers had the decency to bring the bodies to their houses and giving Gene a chance to do something about it.

Gene stumbled up. Time to get to work.


	4. Its not porn but its pretty damn close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does it count as porn if one of the members is leglaly dead? Yes, but it's the illegal brand

***Sup my friends, Spooky here. I worked hard at this part but let me just say: It's 2500 fucking words, half of which are 'blood' or synonyms. In fact, let me just put that right here before the story as its own thing

TW for gore, nudity, and drugs.

Sooo yeah. I'll do my best to finish the part that you've been looking forward to for almost two. Love all of you, read on***

Dexter woke up in the morning light in someone else's house with a light morphine high. He slowly opened his eyes to look out the window to his right, where the light was coming from, noting that the view was different from any in his own home.

He tried to push himself up in a sitting position for a second, but changed his mind automatically. He was extremely lethargic from the dose of the medicine the doctor had given him, and that meant his only real option was to lay back. No one can just slip out a window or kill the residents of the house when you can't even think of a good reason to sit up.

To be honest, Dexter wouldn't have been in much pain anyways even if Gene hadn't given him a serving of morphine. It all comes down to the fact that Serial Killers can heal hyper-fast. Out of all the jobs available in Salem, SK had some of the best health to back him up. Nothing short of the end of the world can really kill a Killer (except for a lynching rope or perhaps the ghost of a clown).

Doing stuff like straight up tearing him limb from limb (or disconnecting all of their organs) kind of disables him from properly self-healing, which is why Gene was such a help last night.

Anyway, Gene couldn't have every role and their best friend running around telling everyone who the doctor was. This was easily combated this by giving every patient a high dose of morphine, regardless of whatever their role was. They got a nice high, couldn't feel anything for long enough to heal completely, and Gene could live another day.

'Should I call out for someone? Is anyone even here?' thought Dexter. 'Can I even talk?' He started humming gently to himself. He noted that he could probably speak since he could make noise but, dropping the thought, he went on, succumbing more to the high. He stared out the window, blissfully disconnected from the world, slowly falling back to sleep.

His noise wasn't very loud, but it caught the attention of the owner of the house. They pushed open the door quickly, throwing a breeze at Dexter, catching his attention and breaking his dazed watch.

A man wearing dark blue pajama pants, a worn t-shirt, and glasses now stood in his doorway with a stethoscope around his neck and a glass of orange juice in hand.

Gene Delrosa.

Dexter didn't know him extremely well, just in the casual neighborly way that everyone knew each other in Salem. He still liked him. He just had that look about him, like a friend that you had yet to know.

Gene walked over to Dexter, putting a glass of juice down on a table by the head of the bed.

He looked directly at Dexter now, scanning first his face to check for medical thingies that I'm not even sure of.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

Dexter lifted his head very slightly off of the pillow to face him more directly.

"I'm," He let his head back down after getting a good look at Gene. Make sure there wasn't any seams. Those goddamn disguises sometimes did a really good job of being someone else unless you took a close look at them. Dexter saw nothing but an occasional scratch on Gene's arms. "Feeling fine, I think."

Dexter wasn't what his sane self would call fine, but he wasn't conscious enough to feel the world transition from normal to drugged when it happened, so there wasn't anything he could compare how he was feeling to.

"Good! I brought you some orange juice in case you want a drink. If you need anything, there's a buzzer in the drawer."

Gene saw that the light was focused on Dexter's face. He reached over Dexter and tugged closed the blinds, cutting off Dexter's main source of entertainment.

"I'll be back in thirty to check on you. Please, lay back and let yourself heal."

Gene left the room, leaving him to think about what he knew in a hazy sleep and drug induced confusion.

'Well, something definitely happened last night. But what the hell was it?'

He raised his head again, trying to get a better look at what was around him.

A clock on the wall told him that it was 8:03. That gave him two more hours to get up and moving before the daily Town Meeting.

The room was decorated rather simply. A bookshelf with a few books and many small plants was a few feet from the foot of the bed.

The walls were yellow and there was another bed to his left, presumably in case Gene had another guest.

Overall, it was rather nice. Dexter couldn't appreciate it very much beyond a glance in his state, but he still appreciated how Gene did up the room.

Hey, speaking of Gene, how about we take a look at his activities for a little?

The young doctor turned their back to the wall by the door and leaned against it, running their hands through their hair. He took a deep breath, blushing deeply.

He was in love.

It wasn't a pretty type of love either.

It started during the strip last night.

Wait, ok, while I'm at catching you up on stuff and jumping all over, I should tell you about Gene's healing process, but mainly the parts that are important to why Gene wants Dexter.

So, after Gene trudged through the growing pool of blood to get to Dexter, he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself but instead getting a mouthful of bloodtaste from the air, and started his work.

I'll skip over the majority of that part, but I will say that it tested his memory of what the inside of a human's stomach/chest area is supposed to look like. He had to remember, or else his Thing wouldn't work.

Now that Dexter was in one piece wholly (but not really alive at all anymore), Gene lifted his body (that took a lot of effort. It's hard to carry things that are both limp and heavy) and brought it with him back to his house, where the real healing happens. Dexter's fluid running down the front of Gene's clothes deeply disturbed him, more than anyone else's ever had (which was saying something, since he had dealt with some rather interesting people and bodily problems).

He kicked open the front door and ran to his 'operating room', gently putting Dexter's body on the table within.

Gene looked closely at his face, staring at his eyes, already glazing over, just a little, in the way that corpses do. His lips, however, were still fairly pink.

Gene brushed his hand over Dexter's cheek gently. Four thin lines of blood were left where Gene had come in contact with him. A cold tear slipped out of the living man's eye, falling from his face and onto Dexter's. Their fluids mixed on his face.

Ok, time for work!

First of all, Gene opened up a wood cabinet and pulled out several vials and glasses of odd things. Mushrooms. Herbs. Fluids. You get the idea.

He popped open a few vials and smelled the contents (and tasted one (then cringed and dropped it back in the cabinet)).

This went on for a while, so long that when Gene looked back at Dexter's body, the eyes were now completely clouded and there was no warmth left on him.

Gene piled a little bit of all the glasses in a jade mortar, a petal of this and a trickle of that. After he dropped in a piece of quartz, he snatched up his pestal and started grinding the mix for another ten minutes, until it was a paste.

He was sweating now, from a combination of physical exhaustion and stress.

Before the paste could be put to work, though, everything that was/wasn't supposed to be a part of the body had to be put in it's place.

He peeled bits of shredded fabric off of Dexter's chest. Most of it was already lost in the attack or the movment, so it didn't take long until his torso was bare.

Now, this part was one that Gene was kind of nervous about.

He fumbled with the button and zipper of Dexter's pants and dragged them down. Only the very top of them was shredded, and only a little bit. The doctor would have salvaged them if they weren't soaked in blood, just like the rest of Dexter.

Oh boy, little fans, it's time for the moment y'all have been waiting for!

Well, maybe not with Dexter a corpse and both of them all gory, but still!

Gene flipped down the top with a small smack noise. He very gently pulled them down until, finally, Dexter was nude.

Gene wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing blood on himself.

The time was 6:39. Two hours until Dexter would wake up and four until the town meeting.

Gene felt lucky that he didn't have to do this every night he planned to heal someone. Normally his job was to just run into the person's house, give them a shot of morphine, remove a bullet if he had to, and stitch up any unnecessary holes. But when you have assholes like werewolves living in town that just refuse to kill people (more or less) humanely, you had to go through the long, hard process that Gene's been dealing with tonight.

He shot for a medical sink in a corner of the room and filled a bucket with water and threw in a face rag. Again, everything had to be in it's place; Blood doesn't belong outside of the human body.

He started at the top of his head. He ruined his perfect haircut to massage water on his cold scalp and clean out the blood. He took the rag, took a corner, and washed the little bit of blood off. Gene tapped the dots of blood away and lightly rubbed off the streaks he left and his tears.

The doctor dipped the rag in the water and, without ringing it out, dropped it on Dexter's chest and let it soak up the blood. He pushed it off of Dexter, on to the table, where it fell through many small, even holes left for precisely this 'surgery'. Dipped it again and repeated the process until Dexter' bare chest was clean. The only noticeable blemish was the system of messy stitches.

Gene looked nervously at Dexter's hips. They, too, would need a nice clean before the process could be finished.

He took a deep breath, this time smelling less blood and more plant matter, and went to refresh the water and rinse out the cleaning rag.

Gene generally didn't get so excited around genitals. He himself was confused why his heart sped up and his cheeks turned warm.

While he sat, resting for just a minute, he thought more and more about Dexter. He hopped up, grabbed the full bucket, still thinking about him. He entered the room, happy to be with Dexter, still thinking about him.

He realized he was in love.

Gene took the cold, wet rag and wiped his own forehead. This was just a little too much shit for him in one night. Nightmares, the most difficult procedure he can do, and now, love. He started planning to perhaps stay inside and have a few deep cups of hot chocolate instead of going to the daily Meeting.

Gene put the bucket on the table next to Dexter's feet. Dipped the rag. Started the job again.

He wiped off the bottom of his feet. They weren't too filthy, compared to the rest of the body. Then, Gene fondled his toes his toes. Again, little dirt.

He felt up his legs with the wet rags, first his left, then the right. A dip of the rag in the bucket, and finally, Gene reached for Dexter's dick.

Gene held it with the rag as his protection from direct contact with it. 'Definitely bigger than mine,' though Gene, who blushed even more.

Gene shook his head, trying to clear his gay thoughts. He needed to finish the job before he could run off and have fun with someone.

He closed the rag around Dexter's penis, wiping it quickly before he could have more impulses.

Before he could call it a night, there was two more things that had to be done.

He flipped over the corpse. Most of his legs were clean, but, of course, Gene had to deal with Dexter's butt, but I want to save any real fondling for later on.

Gene rinsed the rag vigorously. There was only one more area he had to clean before he could be done.

He wrung out the rag over his back. A drop, half water and half blood hit Gene in the face. He wiped it off with the back of his hand (leaving a larger smear) and ran a rag-covered hand down Dexter's side.

'He really is surprisingly muscular under that shirt,' thought Gene.

Ok! Dexter's finally clean and the real work can really start!

Gene flipped Dexter back over. He jumped for the mortar and a brush in a cup by the cabinet.

The doctor smashed the brush in the paste, swished it around a little, and splattered the mix on to the corpses pale chest, aiming for the line of stitches. He painted over it until any noticeable trauma was covered by a chunky, green mess.

This part gets a little weird.

Gene snatched a vial of small, glittering, red sand. He opened it and poured a generous amount over where he remembered the scratches being.

He left the room, but before he could ignore it, he flipped a small switch.

It made a window at the far end of the room open with a clatter. It revealed the rising sun, which was now casting yellow streaks through the clouds. The light fell on Dexter's corpse, now long dead, and made the sand glitter even more.

Yes! Gene closed the door and cheered a little. Another job well done by Salem's best- and only- doctor!

In an hour he would come back and the mysterious magic that he didn't fully understand would soak in to Dexter and make him all nice and alive again.

Until then, though, Gene needed a nice, full rest, complete with a cozy blanket and a warm drink.

~

Dexter laid alone in the guest room for another 30 minutes, drifting off to sleep again. When Gene came back in, he opened the door more calmly, trying to not wake the healing Serial Killer. He sat next to him on the bed, happy that a lively blush returned to Dexter's face.

Within the next hour, Gene woke up Dexter and made him get on a normal outfit so that he'd be presentable at the Meeting. He was out of the house by 9:48.

Gene shooed Dexter away, towards his own home. He found it odd that, even though he was supposed to be stumbling, or at least walking much slower, Dexter's walk was quite normal for someone that was supposed to be drugged.

Again, his bodily systems were hyperactive and the morphine had run it's course.

Dexter knew who the doctor was.


	5. You wan' read about some gay guys? Here ya go!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its the moment you all've been waiting for

At the meeting, Gene felt a heat in the air in front of him, where Dexter stayed all through the meeting, disinterestedly staring around, unless someone came over to talk to him (which was often). When that happened, he put on a bright smile and changed into someone else who was charming and loved to talk with people.

Today was a little more interesting than usual. The Sheriff was reported dead, of course. An escort and an arsonist were added to the death list as well.

"So," hooted the Town Announcer,"Who d'y'all think did it this time?"

It was a rather backwards system, which might bring to mind Heads Up Seven Up.

The announcer called out the accused one's name and looked to see who raised their hand. It was as simple (and awful) as that.

The names rolled through, and today, a shy, small Jester was called up to the stand.

They wheezed fearfully when their name was howled by the Caller. "Wally! To the lynching stand!"

They walked up on shaky legs.

"Today you stand accused for the murder of several members of our humble town. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty!" they yelled. Tried to yell. It was like a highly enunciated whisper. The only people who heard him were the people they were facing.

"Not guilty?" Inquisitive and suspicious. That's what made a good Caller. "Then explain yourself! Who are you?"

"I'm a jester! Just look at my outfit!" They did a childlike twirl, if the child was drunk and scared of falling forward. Not a single bell on their highly adorned costume chimed.

Caller rolled his eyes.

"Those who vote guilty, please raise your hand!"

Several members of the community supported the supposed clown's lynching. More than enough to get the Sheriff his vengeance.

"Those who disagree?"

One stepped forth. Then stepped back. Disbelievers knew what happened if a case was so obviously in one direction.

"So, little 'jester', any last words?"

The small one started crying. "You'll regret this! You will all live to regret lynching me!"

They were surrounded by people. No escaping. No fighting either, since they were so frail in this form.

The Caller never liked this part. He was the one who's sole job it was to force the people to slip their heads into the rope as he tightened the maw down on their neck and kicked the stool from under their feet. They cried sometimes as well. But, a job is a job.

The jester was hung. Small, brown hairs slowly sprouted out of them as their life force slipped away, revealing their poorly concealed true form.

"This town member was a werewolf!" yelled Caller proudly. It was always a good day when they got someone good.

Everyone cheered! That cruel lycanthrope was the bane of everyone, town and neutrals alike. To have them killed by mutual alliance was better than any of them could have hoped!

Everyone went inside their own homes then, just for a short post-meeting break. It was only about two in the afternoon, and most of them were the type to celebrate such an event.

Gene picked up his house. Even though he wasn't planning for an event to happen in his own home, there was nothing wrong with being neat.

And sometimes Ana left little bird droppings on the couch, which are not a delight to accidentally sit on.

He stayed home for the rest of the day. While his neighbors cajoled and merrymade next door, he watched the kinds of movies that one normally doesn't give more than half a brain of thought to.

The day was finally crawling into the night, and Gene was ready to go to bed, when there was a knock at his door.

Gene was laying lazily upon his couch, Ana nestled down on him. He lept up, dashing to put the bird in his room (so they wouldn't try and fight the visitor-pr Gene- for attention.

He then ran for the front door, opening it in a way that would hide his pajama-clad form.

It was Dexter. The last person he expected to visit (but the first he hoped).

"Hey, Gene. I thought, since everyone's celebrating the death of the werewolf," 'and since you revived me last night,' he thought, but didn't say. That's just not the kind of shit you tell someone. "That I'd come over and maybe," he shrugged, "hang out with you."

Gene blinked. Should he do this? What if Dexter overpowered him (which wouldn't be very hard) and killed him, or worse, investigated his house and found out what he did.

"S-sure!" Fucking idiot. "Come on in!"

He opened the door, conveniently forgetting about his pajamas. He was happy to see, though, that Dexter was wearing (publically acceptable) pajamas as well.

Gene closed the door behind them and led Dexter through his house to the living room.

The room was neat. Dexter would have nothing to complain about even if he wanted to, unless he wanted to get picky about the size of his television, which was still pretty nice.

"I didn't have anything ready, I'm sorry," Gene said. "I thought that I'd just be alone tonight."

"It's alright. I kind of surprised you by coming over anyway. I didn't expect much to be happening at your house. That's why I came over."

'God damn it, Gene, he definitely wants to kill you!' he thought. 'He knew you'd be alone and now he's going to kill you. The town still has a Serial Killer left!'

Well, it's too late to kick him out now. Might as well keep him around and buy time until he decides to stab him.

"So, uh, I was watching..." Gene looked down, embarrassed. "A kids movie before you came over. I don't have many other movies so if you want to, like, play a card game or something..."

"Don't worry, the movie is fine," Dexter said with a hint of a laugh in his voice. Gene was odd, but pretty cute in his opinion.

Gene looked at him, slightly surprised. Dexter didn't seem to be the type to accept anything nearly as silly as a kids film.

"Ok then! I'll turn the movie back on then, I guess. Go ahead and sit down, make yourself at home."

Dexter sat to the left of Gene's small couch. Gene grabbed the remote and sat back, pressing the button to proceed the movie.

So. Time for the classic "awkwardly watching television with the crush," moment.

Gene leaned to the right of the couch. Convenient for them, the couch was so small that they were almost sitting upon each other.

For Gene, however, this was just a little too much. Soon after he sat next to Dexter, he felt his face grow warm.

What he would give to sit closer to Dexter. Or, if not closer, have him taken as far away from him as possible so that his feelings would stop.

The movie went well, even though it was awkwardly silent. Gene turned the movie up to fill the silence.

'Should I make a move? Maybe shift towards him a little more?' Gene thought.

He couldn't focus on the movie, he was arguing with himself on what to do.

It finally became too much, and he shifted his legs towards Dexter a little bit.

Well, maybe it was just a small difference. He's doing his best.

Gene recognised this part of the movie. It was going to be over soon. If it ended, then Dexter went home, and he probably lost his one chance at getting a boyfriend.

As someone who was obviously too shy to make a move, this was catastrophic news. Either Dexter did something to incite a relationship/true love, or Gene remained alone and died without a lover while Dexter went on to move somewhere far away from Salem and have a family with three kids.

Or, you know, whatever he did when he decided to settle down.

Gene watched in horror as the credits faded onto the screen. Dexter looked plain, maybe bored.

"Well, that was nice," said Dexter.

"Mhmm," hummed Gene in response morosely.

"So," Dexter started.

Silence.

Maybe this will lead to coming out to each other.

"So," Gene responded.

"I guess that I'll be going."

The credits finished and the t.v. changed to hazy static.

Gene mumbled a "Yeah."

There's nothing like seeing a chance slipping away right in front of you to really make you act. Gene felt adrenaline grip him as he finally decided he wasn't going to let the one he really wanted just leave him.

He grabbed Dexter's sleeve just before he could get too far away. He misjudged the tug and he fell back, pulling Dexter down with him.

You know those "awkward" anime scenes where the cool kid falls on the cute, shy schoolgirl and their faces are so close that they could kiss if they wanted?

Yep, that happened. Except they weren't surrounded by falling cherry petals and there wasn't a twinkle to their eyes.

Dexter's arms landed on both sides of Gene, trapping him down

Gene gasped, tasting Dexter's cologne, previously undetected, in the air. Was this going to be the moment he dreamed of for the last few days?

Wow, it really was! Dexter's mouth was on his, quick and warm. One of Gene's hands was gripping Dexter's back. A flood of heat washed over Gene's face from the surprise affection.

Dexter pulled his mouth off, reluctantly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. The blueish grey from the idle tv glowed on the side of his face.

"I couldn't help myself, I'm sorry, I'll just let myself out," Dexter said in a rush. Dexter refused to look at Gene as he pushed on the floor.

Gene didn't move his hand from Dexter's back. Dexter' looked back down at the doc, bewildered.

"N-no! It's alright, I." Gene tipped his head forward, tapping his forehead on Dexter's. "I'm okay with you."

"Are you sure," Dexter whispered.

"Yes."

They slipped back into a kiss, slower to start but deeper than their starting kiss.

Dexter lowered himself down on Gene, not purposefully. Trying to kiss and hold yourself at a specific height above someone/thing is difficult.

Dexter is huge compared to Gene, so he was crushed for the split second that his partner was too weak to hold himself up.

God, it was the weirdest split second. Gene was excited deep inside for the moment that Dexter laid on him. He gasped in to Dexter's mouth, accidentally getting some spit on his mouth.

Gene wanted to keep going, but the air given up from the kiss and the extra weight on his chest was making it hard to breath.

He pulled back, huffing. His cheeks were glowing as well. It'd been a long time since he'd had so much action.

He quietly laughed breathily. He brought his other hand around from his side, up to the back of Dexter's head, bringing him closer.

Their mouths came together again. Dexter turned his head a little bit and stuck his tongue out to touch Gene's lips.

As everyone who's ever been a teenager knows, this was asking entry to his inner mouth, which Gene accepted.

Gene was slow to stick in his tongue in to Dexter's mouth. He tapped Dex's teeth with his tongue. Dexter, however, rubbed his tongue on Gene's shy muscle.

Dexter felt Gene gasp under him. And a little in his mouth.

Gene pulled off, coughing. There was a few strings of spit hanging down from Dexter's mouth.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry for disrupting our activity," he said between wheezes.

Even though Gene was rather comfortable below Dexter, being below him ruined two kisses now.

"Before we reconnect," Gene said,"We need to change our position. I can't breath under you."

Dexter nodded. He pushed himself up and over so that he was sitting next to Gene. Gene rolled over and got up, stretching his arms above his head. He noticed that the tv was still on and walked forward to switch it off. This cut off pretty much all light in the room

This could be fun.

Gene traced his steps back to the couch and felt along it until his hand found Dexter. He grabbed his shoulder with his left shoulder, took his other in his right, and sat squarely on his lap, facing him.

Now that both of them were completely stripped, they took a chance to lock lips for a passionate kiss. Gene nipped Dexter's lip, again showcasing how kinky he really was.

Dexter reached down for Gene's thigh, sliding his hand up it until his hand was equal to his mostly erect penis. He then gingerly grabbed Gene's muscle, earning a sharp gasp.

Somehow through all their activities, Dexter's hand was wonderfully chilly. He took his turn examining Gene's muscle, now bringing his other hand down for the fun.

The doc rolled his head back, enjoying the attention his cock was receiving. He ran his hands through Dexter's soft hair, mussing it sort of like how he did yesterday, when Dexter was dead.

Dexter examined the muscle first, getting off of Gene to look at it closer.

Then, he licked it.

Gene called out in surprise. Dexter looked up at his face and Gene looked down at him, turned on more by the sight of Dexter so close to his penis.

He nodded, consenting.

Dexter gave him a smirk. Another lick, this time going around his phallic object. Then, oh boy, then he took it in his mouth.

Gene moaned, a loud one that became more of a yell at the end. Dexter laughed while his mouth was still on it, giving the brief, interesting sensation of teeth to Gene, earning Dexter another gasp.

It didn't take long for Gene's penis to become firm, close to his finishing point. He was becoming tired, but was enjoying himself too much to call off for a nap.

Dexter removed his mouth completely with a pop. He stood up, showing that his dick was pretty hard too.

He straddled Gene, putting his hands firmly down on each side of his head. Slowly, he sat on it, allowing it to enter his anus. Just a little at a time. Even though Gene was small, it was his first time taking it up the ass.

He got up a little again. Slow, slow. Gene shivered from the pleasure of it.

Down, again. Up. Down. Up. Down

Up, down up, down, updownupdownupdownupdown.

He sped up quickly. Dexter whispered quiet curses and pressed down for Gene to go deeper in him.

Gene was having a hard time coping without anything to hold on to, and he was going to scream if he didn't bite down on something. He grasped on to Dexter's encapsulating arms and gently bit him. Just enough to hold it in.

Another few seconds and he was already starting to harder. His teeth went from something that was just holding a little bit of Dexter to iron, breaking the skin in spots.

Dexter slowed, just for a second, with a groan. So much pain and pleasure was amazing and confusing.

No matter the blood that was seeping in to Gene's mouth or the pain his bite was causing, Dexter kept on riding Gene.

Gene released the wound and let go of his left arm to give Dexter's dong attention.

He snapped his hand around it and let the motion of his bouncing take care of it all.

Gene finally reached his stopping point within another minute. His white fluid leaked out of Dexter, who continued being active on him for another moment before he nutted too. His semen fell upon Gene's stomach, and felt like lines of warmth as they landed on Gene.

Dexter got off of Gene's dick. He now sat on his lap, not doing much more than panting. He dropped his head on his partner's shoulder.

They sat there a while. Just panting and thinking about what they just did together.

As the moon rose high in the sky and the other members of the town were headed off to bed (some went as pairs, others alone), Gene and Dexter laid down together on the couch with a soft quilt to rest at last. It was a rare night where everyone could relax in Salem.


End file.
